Here I am still intact 

And I should give myself 

Credit for that 

But I have cast a stone 

Deep into my throat 

I squat on land my 

Feet won't reach 

The smell of blood and 

Bile and bleach 

I need a square foot 

And a rope 



We can weave we can unravel 

We keep on sleeping 

Right though our travels 

We can weave we can unravel 

Take our confusion to a 

Much higher level 



Spit it up and hand it over 

To another child of squallor 

Pallid wheezing 

Lost all her color 

Her dark circles 

Getting darker 

He crossed her palm 

But nothing seems 

To wake her from her 

Shitty dreams 

Now she's become just one 

More helpless package 

Of doom 



The city is ecpecially 

Vindictive tonight 

That hitchhiker looks like 

He's heading home to 

Murder his wife 

Well it's a proven fact they 

Don't respond to every call 

For help in time 

So there she stays 

Poor little girl 

Lying on the floor of a 

Dirty bathroom 



No folks there's no device 

No box of gods to descend 

And take this tragedy 

Tie up all the loose ends